Blue.

Tonight is the last night I will lay my head down to sleep in this little college town. Ten years after arriving on its door step, I still find myself surprisingly sadden by the thought of leaving. I showed-up here with my middle school friend, matching purple comforters and nerves about everything from the RA suite mate to what my name tag would look like during RUSH. My academics, that first year, were arranged by my all-knowing brother. Classes started at 11am and somehow finished in time to eat lunch at the sorority house. The sorority house that to this day I still walk right into, I still feel at home at, I still love to lunch at its tables. I suppose I'll always have a home on Franklin Street. And yes, these days I sit in one particular chair a little longer than a use to. But I love the way this story reads. To me Chapel Hill is a sweet place of knowns. It is small, easy to navigate, few corners left dark. The restaurant owners are familiar, and the student bustle is comforting. Every year I send co-eds off to find their own way, and I'm left here, inspired. I'm delighted by the conversations I over hear, the dreams I'm a part of. Chapel Hill. It's a special place. It's a hard place to leave.